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The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3. A thing devised by the enemy."

Ibid. I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die : I think there be six Richmonds in the field.

Sc. 4. A horse ! a horse! my kingdom for a horse !

Tbid. Order gave each thing view. King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.

Ibid. Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him.

Ibid. Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself.

Ibid. 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through.

Sc. 2. The mirror of all courtesy.

Act ii. Sc. 1. This bold bad man.2

Sc. 2. 'T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.

Sc, 3. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

'T is well said again, And 't is a kind of good deed to say well : And yet words are no deeds.

Sc. 2.

1 A weak invention of the enemy. – CIBBER : Richard III. (altered), act r. sc. 3.

2 See Spenser, page 27.

And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2. I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting : I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.



Press not a falling man too far !
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness !
This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride
At length broke under me and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel

my heart new opened. Oh how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours !
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs

and fears than wars or women have : And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.


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Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.

King Henry VIII. Act üi. Sc. 2.
I charge thee, fling away ambition :
By that sin fell the angels.

Ibid. Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr !

Ibid. Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Ibid. A royal train, believe me.

Act iv. Sc. 1. An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye : Give him a little earth for charity !

Sc. 2. He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. Ibid. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him ! Ibid.

He was a man Of an unbounded stomach.

Ibid. Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.1


1 For men use, if they have an evil tourne, to write it in marble ; and whoso doth us a good tourne we write it in duste. SIR THOMAS MORE: Richard III. and his miserable End.

All your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: Philuster, act v. sc. 3. L'injure se grave en métal ; et le bienfait s'escrit en l'onde. (An injury graves itself in metal, but a benefit writes itself in water.)

JEAN BERTAUT. Circa 1611.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not,
But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.

King Henry VIII. Act it. Sc. 2.
Yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely.
After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.



To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures.

Act r. Sc. 2. 'T is a cruelty To load a falling man.

Sc. 3.1 You were ever good at sudden commendations. Ibid. 1

I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence. Ibid.2 They are too thin and bare to hide offences.

bid.1 Those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour. Sc. 5.2 Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations.

Ibid. A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. Ibid. I have had my labour for my travail.3

Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 1.

1 Act v. Sc. 2 in Dyce, Singer, Staunton, and White. ? Act v. Sc. 4 in Dyce, Singer, Staunton, and White.

Labour for his pains. — EDWARD MOORE: The Boy and his Rainbow.

Labour for their pains. — CERVANTES : Don Quixote. The Author's Preface.

Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets
In mere oppugnancy." Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3.
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come.

Modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.

Act i. Sc. 2. The common curse of mankind, — folly and ignorance.

Sc. 3. All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.

Act iii. Sc. 2. Welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing.

Sc, 3. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Ibid. And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.

Ibid. And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air.

Ibid. His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty.

Act iv. Sc. 5. The end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.

Ibid. Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Coriolanus. Act i. Sc. 3.


1 Unless degree is preserved, the first place is safe for no one. SYRUS : Maxim 1042.

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